


Little Wolf

by ofporcelain



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blackwater AU, Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance, Stark OC - Freeform, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofporcelain/pseuds/ofporcelain
Summary: The reader is the eldest Stark daughter, twin to the King in the North, Robb Stark. However, you have not seen your brother in a long while being as you were taken hostage in King’s Landing alongside your younger sister. You have found a strange form of comfort within The Hound and The Battle of Blackwater leaves you at a crossroad. Your decisions will lead to a whirlwind of events that not the Old Gods nor the New could have foreseen.





	1. The Hound's Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever written for this site so please bare with me whilst I figure it out. Feedback is always welcomed & extremely appreciated. This will be written in third person and the reader will be referred to as Y/N (your name). I will try my best to keep the readers description to a minimum in order for the readers to place themselves in the story, however she is Robb Stark's twin. The first chapter will be short, however upcoming ones will be much longer. I hope you all enjoy this.

A jolt was sent throughout your body when a knock echoed from the other side of your solar door. You let out a shaky breath before rising to your full height and pulling it open, meeting an armored chest. Your gaze traveled up, up, and up before you met the stormy eyes of Sandor Clegane. His face was twisted in it’s usual scowl as he stared down at you.

“Come, Little Wolf. The King’s wants you in the Great Hall.”

You gave a short nod, her hands coming together as you rushed towards her vanity. Your handmaidens had already visited you that morning, readying you for yet another day of torture, though you knew had you not looked your best the King would take it as a personal insult. “Just a moment please, ser.”

He snorted in response, slipping further into the room as he watched you flutter around. You knew the longer you took the worse your punishment would be, however that didn’t stop you from standing in front of the hearth, hands ringing together as you lost yourself in thought.

During your time in King’s Landing you had done your best to play the perfect Lady you was taught to be, though there were moments when the wolf snuck out. Moments when you bared your teeth and fought against the hands that gripped you ever so tightly. Though you never fought the hands of the man who stood not ten feet away, studying you. Whilst his words were always harsh or demeaning you had always caught the undertones. The secret warnings he had given which you had simply ignored. You wished you could go back and change your response. To express your concerns to your father before they had even set foot in the Red Keep; of course, it was too late for that now. 

After what felt like hours you turned back to the hulking man, dragging your bottom lip between your teeth before asking, “will my sister be present as well?” 

“Aye, she will. The King sent Meryn for her.” Your heart dropped at that, the memories of the times you couldn’t distract the King from his betrothed. When you couldn’t take the beating yourself and the hands of Meryn Trant were instead laid upon Sansa. “It’s time to go. Shouldn’t make him wait any longer, it’ll only mean worse for you.”

Without a word you followed behind him, the walk from your room to the court going by in a blur, though before you were pushed through the doors the man of the Kingsguard came to a stop. “You best bite your tongue this time. Your brother caused quite the stir.” The doors pulled open, all eyes turning towards you before you were lead before the Iron Throne.

“Finally!” The King spat, dropping himself down on the forged throne. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough, Lady Y/N.”

You bowed your head, dropping to your knees as the King spoke. You had been in this position long enough that you knew it was best to submit. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, it will not happen again.”

“Begging will do you no good. Stand.” You did as he commanded, rising to your feet before lifting your head to meet his gaze. “You are here to answer for your brother’s latest crimes.”

“Your Grace, whatever my brother has done you know I’ve had no part in! I beg you-”

“Enough!” his voice rang out, earning a few murmurs from those within the court. “Lord Baelish tell her of this outrage.”

The man stepped from the shadows, staring at you with cold, calculated eyes. It was a look you preferred compared to the ones he often gave both you and your sister, a look you had seen many times from many men within the keep.

“Your brother has risen up again with his army of wolves.” He began, his lip twitching as he spoke, “it seems he has used some sort of… sorcery in order to kill thousands of men loyal to the true king.”

Your eyes shifted towards the others within the court, eventually landing on your sister, who’s face was twisted with concern. There was a sharp click, drawing your gaze back towards the King who now held the all to familiar cross bow, aiming it directly at you. Your head dropped, awaiting the next few moments. You would either receive a beating or death.

“Killing you would send your brother a message,” he began, and you swore at his words The Hound grew stiff. A sob echoed throughout the Great Hall and you were surprised to discover it didn’t belong to you. “Though my mother insists on keeping you both alive. So, we’ll have to send your brother a message some other way.”

He lowered the bow then, twisting around and slumping on his throne. Your punishment was predictable, but it didn’t stop fear from creeping up when The King called for Meryn Trant, who was wearing a cruel grin as he stepped forward. A swift strike to the middle was all it took to send you to the ground, doubling over as you gasped for breath. Unlike the rare times they punished your sister, Joffery didn’t care if your face was touched, the oncoming slap echoing throughout the hall.

You felt blood pooling in your mouth, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you pulled your eyes around the King, who spoke out again. “Meryn, the lady’s overdressed. Unburden her.”

A cry of desperation left your lips as your eyes shifted around, widened in fear. They landed on the man who had brought you to this room, this dungeon. His eyes met yours, cold as ever, hand gripping onto his longsword so tight you almost believed the handle would snap. It was then that you were dragged back to the cruel man before you, grasping as you dress and ripping the front down.

As Trant pulled back his hand yet again a voice rang out.

“What is the meaning of this?”

All eyes turned to meet the small form of Tyrion Lannister. His stride holding authority and anger as he marched towards the King. “What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?” He hissed, glaring at the taller man as his eyes shifted between him and yourself.

“The kind who serves his king, Imp!”

“Careful now,” the third man cut in, “we don’t want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak.”

“Someone get the girl something to cover herself with!” Tyrion demanded as he set his sights on his nephew.

Within seconds The Hound was on you, ripping his cloak off with very little care and tucking it around your shoulders. “Stand up, Little Wolf.” He murmured, so softly you almost believed that you had imagined it. His arms tucked under your arms, helping you to your feet, however they caved under your weight.

“Clegane! Take Lady Y/N back to her chambers, I believe we can protect the King in your absence.”

The Hound- no, Sandor, gripped your hip, tucking you under his arm and leading you away from the scene. Your legs felt like that of a foal, shaking with the effort until eventually he gave up on having you walk and lifted you up with a swift motion, arms tucked under your frame as the other guards opened the door for him.

The moment they shut behind you the sobs began again. Soft whispers coming from the large man as his hands gripped you tighter to his chest. “Hush now, we’re almost there.

Your handmaidens were shuffling about your room, but with a harsh growl from Sandor they darted out. He kicked the door shut on them, gently placing you down on the featherbed and slipping towards the vanity on the other side of the room. His back was turned to you, though you could hear the splash of water from the basin before he moved back to where you sat.

“Hold still.” He grumbled before lifting a cloth and dabbing your lip. You flinched in response, the wound stinging as he began cleaning your face of the blood which you were sure had been oozing. “Little bastard king, fucking cunt.”

“Thank you.” You whispered softly, watching his face as he continued to wipe at your face.

His brow furrowed at your words, scars twisting on his face as his eyes moved up to meet yours. “He’s gon’ end up killing you.” Was all he said in response before he shifted back to his full height, though before he could exit the room you reached out for his hand. He came to a halt; however, he didn’t turn to face you again.

“Please,” you began, using his arm as leverage to lift yourself from the bed. “Don’t leave just yet.”

When you had first encountered the colossal of a man he had terrified you. His gruff and intimidating demeanor often sent you running in the other direction, though once your father had been executed you had found yourself gravitating closer to him. The fear shifting to repose when he was near as you began to understand his words were nothing more than warnings. You were sure he had noticed this, despite the fact he never acknowledged it verbally.

“Can’t stay. The King will be wanting his dog back at his side.” He snarled at the mention of the cruel boy, tugging his hand away from your own. “Rest now, Little Wolf.”

Before he was able to take another step, you closed the distance, reaching up to grasp him by the neck and tugged him down. You were sure you wouldn’t have been able to so had he not been surprised by your actions. It was clearly written over his face. You tilted your head to the side and pressed a kiss to his good cheek.

When you rocked back onto your heels he simply stared at you, his wide eyes narrowing before he let out a huff and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

**☇ ☇ ☇ ☇**

**The Battle of Blackwater**

You were sat with the rest of the women, watching as Cersei pulled Sansa back and forth from your spot next the Shae. The screams of war echoing throughout the keep as your leg bounced in anticipation. Within an instant the room erupted into chaos as the Queen Regent shoved her cousin, grasping her son by the hand and leading him out of the room. “Don’t be afraid!” You called to the other women, your sister quick to follow in suit.

“The queen has raised the draw bridge, this is the safest place we can be. Joffrey’s not hurt, he’s fighting bravely. His knights have rallied behind him. They will save the city.” She took a deep breath, “shall we sing a hymn?”

It was then the women started up in song, however Shae grabbed you both by the arm. “You must go. Run to your chamber and bar your door. Stannis won’t hurt you,” her gaze shifted to Ilyn Payne, “this one will.”

She pushed you towards the door, but you quickly stopped. “Sansa go- it will look too suspicious if we both leave at the same time.”

“No! Come with me! The queen said they’ll rape everyone.” Sansa begged, but the handmaiden was quick to come to your defense.

She lifted her skirts, showing the dagger pressed to her long leg, “no one is raping us. Go. Run! Your sister will be with you soon.”

As the red headed girl took off you let out a long breath, thanking Shae before placing yourself back on one of the chairs. Your gaze fell on the executioner and with that one look you were sure you wouldn’t be getting out of the room. Not with him there.

Time seemed to go in slow motion as the battle raged on, Shae had slipped out of the room as well, leaving you alone with the other women. It wasn’t until you heard a terrible clatter outside the door that you were sure the end had come. Stannis’s men had taken over and were coming for you all, however when the door burst open your heart came to a stop.

The Hound stood there, breathing heavily and soaked in blood. “Sandor!” You cried, shoving to your feet and rushing forward. Without a word he scooped you up, slinging your body over his shoulder. There was a shuffle of feet, a horrible gush of liquid and a thud before he turned and marched you into the corridor. You turned your head upwards as the women screamed, Ilyn Payne lay dead before them.

“I’m taking you away, Little Wolf.”

“Wait-!” You struggled against him, though it was no use as he continued to head deeper into the keep. “Please, put me down.”

He let out a string of curses before placing you back on your feet, giving a harsh shake of his head. It was then that you got a better look at him. When your father often spoke of the men he had caught running from the wall, craven men, you had never been able to imagine it, but staring up at him you began to understand. “The fire- are you hurt- “

“Bugger that!” He grumbled, cutting away your words. “I’m leaving, Little Wolf. Someplace not on fire. North might be; could be.”

“I need to get my sister. I can’t leave her here- they’ll kill her.”

The Hound let out a long breath before give a short nod of his head. “Aye. Her chambers are on the way.”

When you came up to the door you were pleased to know that you sister had listened to Shae, baring the door behind her. You began to knock loudly, calling out to the younger girl. “Sansa, it’s me! Open the door, quickly.”

“Y/N!” Within moments the door was open, though the smile fell from her lips as she caught sight of the man towering being you.

You shoved your way inside, moving with haste as you began to gather up what you deemed necessary. “We’re leaving, now, Sansa. Help me with some supplies!” You took a moment to look away from the objects, taking in her expression which caused you to freeze. “What?”

“We’ll be safe here.” She said softly, causing your brow to furrow. “Stannis won’t hurt us.”

Anger suddenly coursed through your veins, closing the distance between you and your sister as you grabbed her arm. “We don’t know Stannis! Not to mention what would happen if he doesn’t win this battle! They will kill us, Sansa! We can’t stay here.”

“Go then!” She snapped, her snarky tone which you had once been so used to creeping back. “I’m not leaving with him.”

“Stupid girl!” Sandor hissed, taking a step closer to you both. “Look at me! Stannis is a killer. The Lannisters are killers. Your father was a killer. Your brother is a killer. Your sons will be killers someday. The world is built by killers. So, you better get used to looking at them.”

She said nothing, gaze stuck to the ground before he stepped back with a gruff exhale. “I’m leaving.” You said softly, turning her face up to meet yours. “I can’t force you, but father would- he would never want us to part.”

“Then stay! We’ll- “

“I can’t.” Was your only response before you moved back to the things you had began to pack. Shoving the last few items in the sack you handed it off to Sandor, who took it before marching into the corridor, leaving you both alone. “I love you, Sansa, but I refuse to stay here a moment long.”

You pressed a swift kiss to her cheek, hugging her tightly before forcefully releasing her and rushing out to meet Sandor. He said nothing as he lead you to the stables where his large warhorse stood ready, his large hands gripping at your waist before he hoisted you up on the beast, strapping down the saddle-bag and slipping on behind you.

“Hold tight, Little Wolf, this won’t be easy.”


	2. The Hound's Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape from King’s Landing was difficult, but successful. The Little Wolf and The Hound have been putting as much distance between themselves and the Lannisters; however, things prove to be more complicated than they originally thought when Sandor is recognized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A FILLER CHAPTER! Please keep that in mind while reading! It’s basically here just to move the plot along so I can get to the real good stuff in the next part. It’s been a long time coming for this one! I had two different plans for this story and after lots of debating and outlining I have finally figured out where it’s going to go! I really hope you all enjoy this part & as usual kudos and comments are very appreciated! I truly hope you all enjoy this next chapter! xxx

The guilt of leaving your sister behind was growing with each mile that was put between yourself and King’s Landing. Sandor was set on putting as much distance as possible before he ever considered stopping to rest. The journey had been nothing more than a haze and you couldn’t be sure how long you had been travelling; your mind lost in memories as Stranger led you further north.

The horse itself was a massive beast who carried you both with little effort. While it only tolerated your presence it was incredibly loyal to the man who was perched behind you, reigns held tight in his hand as he urged the animal onward. The sun was beginning to set and you found yourself growing exhausted as it disappeared behind the trees.

Conversation had been scarce so far; your mind stuck on your sister and his focused on escaping; however, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, instead you found comfort in the brusque man who had taken to keeping you by his side at all times. Despite the seriousness of the situation and dangers lurking at all times you were comforted by the thought of having such a warrior caring for you.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you caught sight of a small village not far from where you rode, back straightening as you focused your attention in it’s direction. Sandor seemed to notice this as he released the grasp one hand had on the reigns, placing it on your waist to steady you as he tugged harshly, causing the horse to huff as he darted to the side. The open road disappeared behind you as the beast trotted deeper into the forest, only stopping when the warrior believed you shielded well enough. 

“You hungry, Little Wolf?” He asked lightly, slipping off the massive warhorse before reaching up to assist you to the ground. You gave a strong nod, tilting your head back to meet his gaze and allowing a tired smile to grace your lips.

The only response you got was a snort, a large arm reaching past you to begin unstrapping the saddle-bag. His warmth enveloped you as he continued taking down the supplies and you couldn’t help but bask in it. The weather was much more comfortable now that you were further from the beating sun of the south and while you craved the cold winds of Winter you could help but enjoy the warmth. 

“We’ll set up camp then I’ll go down to get supplies. We’re still too deep in the bloody south for you to go into town.”

During the first few days of your journey word began to spread of The Hound going craven, stealing away the eldest Stark daughter in the heat of battle and vanishing into the night. After being recognized in a small town and being attacked by a group of desperate men he had been on edge. Always making sure you kept your hood up and making you stay behind as he went to gather supplies. 

You watched at he pulled out the bedrolls, handing them to you before he began setting up a fire; which was en exceedingly rare luxury. You understood his skepticism, you understood why you could travel into town with him, why you couldn’t always have a hearth or a warm bed, but that didn’t stop the pout that formed over your lips as your gaze trailed after him. 

With a soft sight you laid out the bedrolls next to the fire, but far enough to keep the embers from catching the fabric. After you were done you dropped down to sit upon them, watching as Sandor finished lighting the fire and then standing to his full height. His gaze dropped down to meet yours, holding it for a strong moment before he grumbled that he would return and threw himself back up onto the warhorse. 

The moment he vanished from your sight you grew uneasy, hand reaching beneath your cloak to touch the hilt of the steel dagger he had given you earlier on your journey. He had plucked it from one of the men who had failed at collecting the bounty on your both; wiping it clear before tucking it into the belt that wrapped around the waist of your dress. 

You couldn’t be sure how long he was gone, but some point between walking around the makeshift camp and sitting by the fire you had fallen asleep. It wasn’t until an overwhelming scent surrounded you that you jerked awake, eyes blinking in attempt to see from the pale light coming from the dying embers. 

“Hush, Little Wolf, it’s me.” A hoarse voice growled, the familiarity of it caused a sense of peace to flow through you. A soft groan slid past your lips as he settled into his bedroll, still wearing the armor he had been on the night of Black Water. A chill ran down your spine at the memory of the wildfire and Sandor, who you assumed believed it to be due to the lack of fire, rolled onto his side, pulling your frame against him. 

It was not proper; you were well aware of the lessons you had been taught since you were young, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak up. Instead you relaxed in his grasp, doing the best to ignore the sense deprivating scent of ale as you fell into a much deeper sleep.

A gasp slid past your lips as you were jerked to your feet, eyes darting wildly at the men who surrounded you. Sandor was still on the ground, however it was clear that they had gotten the best of him as two men began wrestling with him in order to get the upper hand. “No!” You shouted, kicking desperately at the man who had a vice grip around your waist. Instinct, as well memories o Sandors fights, shot through your as you grabbed the hilt of your dagged, ripping it free from the sheath and slamming it into hand that grasped you. 

The man howled in pain, releasing you instantly, and you darted forward, desperate to help the large man. You didn’t get very far, another set of hands grasping you and forcefully hitting your wrist until you dropped the weapon. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Sandor hissed, fighting harder against the men in attempt to get closer to you. The last thing you saw was ropes being wrapped around him before a hood was placed over your head. 

The next few moments were nothing more than a blur as you were lead forward by unfamiliar hands and hoisted onto a horse. After what felt like moons of silence you took a deep breath and spoke. “Sandor?”

“I’m here, Little Wolf.” He growled, fury filling his tone, but his voice alone was enough to cause you to relax. You tilted your head back towards the sun, the small holes in the cover over your head giving you just enough sight to make out the trees above. 

You couldn’t be sure how long you were riding. Between the remarked aimed at Sandor and his grumble of curses you lost yourself in thought once again. Then the horse came to a stop and you were tugged down once again. Unlike the man you had grown so fond of they hadn’t bothered tying you, instead it was just a strong grasp on your upper arm. Your ears perked at the sound of a crowd, brow furring beneath the sack as you caught a whiff of ale and stew. You were then pushed into a much larger frame, one that you instantly recognized as Sandor.

“That is an uncommonly large person, how does one manage to subdue such an uncommonly large person?” A voice rang out before you and your hands lifted to grasp at the chain mail that covered the man in question.

A chuckle rang out ahead, “one waits for him to drink until he passes out with his lovely companion.”

“Oh, man, you have my sympathy.” The first man spoke again, a whoosh of fabric hitting the ground before your own hood was lifted. You blinked at the light before glaring harshly at the men around you, stepping forward to tuck yourself behind the armored man. “Aha, not a man at all. A hound! So good to see you again, Clegane.”

“Thoros? The fuck you doing here?” The taller man grumbled, arms straining against his bonds and you couldn’t help but to lift your own, grasping at one of his large hands. His movements froze then, the reminder that you were there causing him to tense more. 

“Drinking and talking too much, same as ever.” The man cooed, taking another sip from hir tankard. “A pretty prize, lads!”

There was a shuffle of feet to your right and on instinct you lurched in the opposite direction, the fear of being separated from him once more causing your hand to tighten against his. “Girl,” he growled suddenly, the tone of his voice almost causing you to jump. “What in Seven Halls are you doing with the Stark bitch?”

Your brow furrowed at this, gaze lifting to the back of his head before you turned to look to the side. The world seemed to shift in slow motion as you met her gaze; eyes softening instantly as your chest swelled with emotion. A small cry slipped past your lips as you leaped forward, ripping your arms away from the men who tried to grasp you as you lifted your hands to cup her face.

Her eyes were wide and tired, anxiousness dancing behind them as she lifted her own hands to grab your wrists. Neither of you spoke, neither of you knew what to say as the room grew quiet. After a moment you moved to wrap your arms around her shoulder, a watery smile forming on your lips as you hugged her tightly. She returned the sentiment, grasping at your dirty dress. 

“I could ask you the same.” Thoros spoke once more and you turned your gaze back to them both, holding your younger sister tightly against your frame. 

Sandor had been removed from the tavern almost instantly and your arms had dropped from your sister as you twisted to go along with him. The first man, Thoros, had stopped you. He instead lead you to a table, offering you a bowl of stew which you were hesitant to accept. After an assurance from your sister that it was safe you hastily engorged in it, barely taking a breath between bites. 

Once you had finished the meal you followed the others outside of the tavern, eyes locking on the man who was having the straps of his armor adjusted by the boy who had been accompanying Arya. “What are you going to do with us?” The tone was strong and gruff and you couldn’t help but think that you had accustomed it from Sandors. 

Thoros let out laugh, "you’re a fiery one. It must run in the family.” He japed, glancing back at your younger sister before returning his eyes to you. “You caused quite a stir stabbing Callor, he’s one of my best swordsmen.”

“If he hadn’t grabbed at me he’d still be one of your best swordsmen.” You countered, arms crossing over your chest. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“These woods aren’t safe for Ned Starks daughters. You’re lucky we found you.” That seemed to bother Arya just as much as it did you as she pushed herself down from the barrels and stalked back towards the tavern. You followed behind her, brow furrowing when she came to a halt. Your gaze twisted along with hers, eyes lighting up when you caught sight of Sandor being led by a group of me. 

"I like to see a mans face when I put the steel in him.” You hadn’t caught the other mans response, eyes locking with the taller male as he was urged forward. “It’s alright, Little Wolf.” 

“What gives you the right to speak to a Stark girl.” The man he was with snapped, jerking harshly at the ropes that bound him. You knew it wasn’t out of respect for your father, it was clear they were all just trying to get under his skin. 

Before you were given the chance to response Arya stepped forward, staring up at the man. “Do you remember the last time you were here?”

“It looks like every other shit inn on the road.” 

“Apologies, but you’re one ugly fucker and I’d rather not see you anymore.” The man witha bow spoke, tossing the hood over his head once again before having him lead into the back of the wagon. You flinched when his head connected with the wood frame, a frown playing at your lips as you watched them load up. 

☇ ☇ ☇ ☇  
The Brotherhood Without Banners Lair

The sound of rushing water was the only thing you could make out as you were lead by an unknown male. The hood slowed your steps significantly, the fear of slipping consuming your thoughts. When you finally came to a stop the hood was removed and you blinked at your surroundings. Arya was to your left, looking just as frazzled as you felt. Your eyes darted around the cave until they landed on the massive male who stepped back from the fire in angst. 

“You look like a bunch of swine herds.” He grumbled, looking around the cave until he was able to meet your gaze.

“Some of us were swine herds and some was tanners and masons. That was before.”

“You’re still swine herds and tanners and masons. You think carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?”

“No.” A new voice rang out, dragging your attention away from Sandor. The man emerged from the shadows, a patch over his eye and arms tucked behind his back. “Fighting in a war makes you a soldier.”

“Beric Dondarrion, you’ve seen better days.”

It was then that you began to fade out, your thoughts swarming as you desperately looked for a way to escape. You didn’t trust these men, you could never trust these men. There was only one person you would give your life to and he was bound in the middle of the cave. It wasn’t until your sister spoke up that you tuned back into the conversation before you.

“You murdered Mycah the butchers boy, my friend. He was twelve years old, he was unarmed. You rode him down. You slung him over your horse like he was some deer.” You grasped at her shirt, looking at her with wide eyes. Stop, you mouthed, but she simply shook you off.

“Aye, he was a bleeder.” Sandor replied, meeting your gaze once before tearing it away. “I was Joffrey’s sworn shield. The boy attacked the prince.”

“That’s a lie! I hit Joffrey, Mycah just ran away.”

“Then I should have killed you. Not my place to question princes.” 

Beric shifted his eyes between you and your sister, “you stand accused of murder, but no one here knows the truth of the charge so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light will do that now. I sentence you to trial by combat.”

“So who will it be? Shall we see if your Lord of Light really loves you, priest? Or you archer, what are you worth with a sword in your hand? Or is the little girl the bravest one here?”

“Aye, she might be, but it’s me you’ll fight.”

Dread filled you wholly, hands clenching at your sides as you stared at Sandor. He now refused to meet your gaze, eyes trained on the man before him. One of the men cut his binds and you had to resist the urge to rush forward and grab his wrists. A prayer was spoken into the flames as the men prepared themselves for combat; your heart was hammering against your chest so hard you were sure the others could hear it. 

When Berics sword burst into flamed you jumped forward, only to be grasped by Gendry. Sandor was the first to lurch forward, meeting the sword with his own, a war cry slipping past his lips as they shifted against one another. Your hands now wrung nervously before you, mind racing with possibilities as they continued to fight. They moved closer to you, swords clashing as you stumbled back against your sister. 

Then his shield caught fire and a scream tore from your lips, “no!” Arya turned to you with dark eyes, face contorted with confusion as rocked in place. Within moments Beric fell to his knees and Sandor dropped his greatsword, slicing through the burning steel and directly down the kneeling man.

The moment Sandor dropped to the ground, grunting against the flames that had caught his armor, you rushed forward. Within an instant you had dropped to your knees, pushing dirt against the flames until it was extinguished. Arya let out a scream behind you, pushing against Gendry who had forcefully pulled her away from the scene, knife falling to the ground.

“Looks like the gods love me more than you butchers boy.” He mused, looking past you to your younger sister. You grasped the front of his mail, desperate to pull his attention away and check for injuries. 

“Burn in hell!” Arya screamed, still fighting against the hold on her.

“He will.” The voice struck your core, gaze twisting to see the man who had been slayed breathing heavily. Your eyes widened as you glanced down to where the cut hand been, though there was no sign of the wound. “But not today.”

Sandor paid you very little mind as he got to his feet, all but shoving you away as he began demanding for his things. “I want my gold!” He growled at them, “you’re nothing but thieves.”

“We’re outlaws, outlaws steal. You’re lucky we didn’t kill you.”

“Come try it archer, I’ll shove those arrows up your ass. I want my gold and the girl.” 

Your heart leaped at his words, stepping towards him instantly, however Thoros reached out to grab your arm. “We’re keeping your gold and the girl.” He struggled against his grip, looking between him and Sandor. 

Before you could respond Beric spoke once more, “go in peace, Sandor Clegane, the Lord of Light isn’t done with you yet.”

Your companions gaze shifted between you and the resurrected male, jaw tightening as he stepped back and allowed a hood to be tossed over his head before he was lead out.


	3. The Hound's Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sandor won his trail by combat and was removed from the lair of the Brotherhood Without Banners the reader was full of dread. So many questions are swarming her mind and despite being reunited with her younger sister she can’t help but wonder why he had left her with such a little fight. It isn’t until an unsettling escape that she realizes the not everything was as it seemed.  
>   
>  **Chapter Inspiration: Bruises by Lewis Capaldi**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since last chapter was more of a filler I figured it was time to get deeper into the story! I really enjoy this series & I hope you guys do as well! As usual kudos & comments are greatly appreciated!

Your heart ached. It ached for the way the Brotherhood sold off you sisters last friend. It ached for the pain and bitterness that had consumed the once lively girl. It ached for Sandor Clegane, the man you trusted more than anyone. It ached for the way he had left you with the outlaws. 

You had been exceedingly quiet since the man had won the trail by combat, and when Arya questioned this, when she demanded that The Hound was nothing more than a vicious killer, you had rounded on her. He saved me, you had hissed, he saved me and protected me when I had no one and never once did he ask for anything in return! The hurt in your voice was enough to stop her remarks. She was still young, still a girl, but despite her vengeful feelings she was able to understand that losing him effected you the way losing Gendry had her. 

It was the fourth cycle of the sun since that day and you were sat at the campfire with the other members. It was a somber night, the men no longer cheering and praised their Lord of Light, and you were perched against the rock Arya sat upon. Your eyes were trained on the flames dancing before you, almost hoping that this lord would reach out and tell you what must be done next. After all, your own gods seemed to have turned their backs on you.

Your thoughts went back to Sansa who you had heard little to nothing of since your escape from King’s Landing. When you described the instance to Arya she had laughed bitterly, sounds like her, she had mused. You wished you would have dragged her out of the Keep; at least then you would have both of your sisters. 

“Come sit by the fire, girls.” Beric spoke up, pulling your attention away from the flames. You had yet to speak to the man and it was clear Arya was in no mood to deal with him after he had given Gendry to the Red Woman. 

“Not talking, eh?” Thoros piped up, eyes shifting from you to your sister, “that a first for you little one.”

Arya quipped back in a monotoned voice, labeling them traitors as she kept her head low. The talk of the god bored you, however when you sister finally met their gaze and declared Death as her one true god a smirk crossed your lips. 

Before he was given the chance to respond the archer, who you had learned to be named Anguy, pushed his way towards the fire. “Bumped into a Lannister raiding party.” His words hit your core, breath catching in your throat as you looked between the men. 

As they all jumped to action your sister pushed herself from the rock, scurrying forward towards the leader. “But what about Riverrun? It’s not south, it’s west of here!”

“It will still be west of here two days from now.” Thoros chimed in, causing you to leap to your feet.

Your sister let out a small whine, “you swore-”

“To take you home, and I will, but we need to do this first.” Beric said, maintaining his composure.

It was then that you rounded on the man, shoulders squared as you stepped behind your sister. “Why? So you can steal their gold too?”

He stared at you for a long while, eyes searching your features, and whatever he saw caused his brow to furrow. “We stole nothing. Clegane owed-”

“He owed nothing! He won his trail by combat, which was wrongly enforced, and you stole his gold and me!” Your chest was heaving now, fists balling at your sides, desperate to let out your frustration.

“I swear to you, this isn’t-”

Arya cut him off once more, “we don’t care what you swear because you’re a liar! You lied to Gendry, you lied to us, you’ll lie to anyone! I hope the Lannisters kill you all!”

When Beric grasped her upper arm you took another step forward, “one day you’ll understand, but now-” Again he wasn’t able to finish his sentence; Arya darted back grasping your sleeve and she weaved between the men of the camp. You followed in suit, legs pumping faster than you could ever recall as you both disappeared beyond the tree line.

A flicker of light caused you to jump, grasping your sister by her shirt and pulling her in the opposite direction as you did your best to avoid the hanging bark. “Keep going!” You snapped, reaching down to tangle your fingers together as you both zagged between the trees. It wasn’t until your lungs began to burn that you dropped behind a tree, glancing back at the glare of torches. You took a deep breath, releasing Arya’s hand in order to grab the back of her tunic. The moment the men began to turn in the other direction you shoved her forward, however your arm was quickly grasped in a tight hold. You struggled instantly, fist swinging at your attacker, eyes darting to Arya, who was tucked beneath his arm struggling just as fiercely. It wasn’t until you heard the familiar curse that you paused.

“Sandor!” 

While the name gave you nothing but hope, it encouraged your youngest sister to struggle harder against the armored man. “Kick all you like wolf bitch, it’ll do you no good.” He growled, walking back deeper into the brush. You grasped his forearm, allowing him to lead you through the darkness. It wasn’t until Arya’s fighting grew noisy that he hit her over the head with the hilt of his dagger, tossing her over his shoulder despite your protests. ”She’ll be fine. We wouldn’t be if she kept that shit.”

His arm tore away from your grasp, quickly being replaced by his hand around your wrist as he continued to rush you through the forest. You couldn’t be sure how long your were walking, the burst you had gotten before still pumping through you as you avoided the Brotherhood who were still searching for you. By the time Sandor came to a halt the black sky began to fade to blue. 

He dropped Arya to the ground before rounding on you, hand dropping your wrist before lifting up to cup your neck, tilting your head from side to side in order to check for any injuries. There were none, aside from the small scratches that had been left by the branches hitting your cheeks. Your hands lifted to rest on his wrists, a smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him. “You came back.”

“Came back? I never bloody left. As soon as that cunt of a bannerman left I turned back.” 

You stepped forward then, arms move to wrap around his middle as you rested your cheek against his armored chest. His frame stiffened, arms hovering around your shoulder as if giving you the chance to pull back, but when you simply grasped him tighter he draped them around you. It was the first time since King’s Landing that you had initiated the gentle touch. Throughout your journey the touches were nothing more than sharing the saddle of Stranger or when he’d pull you close to him at night in order to sedate your shivering.

He let out a long breath, one you hadn’t noticed he was holding, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back lightly. “Come, Little Wolf, you need sleep.” At some point during your time apart he had lost one of the saddle-bags and you assumed it was in an attempt to get some gold from the supplies. 

“Oh, give it to her.” You said softly, stopping him from laying the bedroll out next to where he had sat the saddle up for himself. His brow furrowed at this, mouth opening to object, but you were quick to cut him off. “I have you, Sandor, please?”

Despite the string of curses that he grumbled he move the bedroll a bit further from his spot, grasping the smaller girl and dropping her over it before he settled down. You stared at him for a moment, wanting to give him time to get comfortable, only for him to scoff and motion you closer. With movements much too swift you rushed forward, dropping down next to him, and tucking yourself into his side. While it wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, the uneven ground biting into your skin, you felt more safe than you had in days. 

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were sure it was quickly being as the next time you opened your eyes it was daylight. Sandor’s voice had pulled you from your slumber, a groan sliding past your lips as you blinked the sleep from your eyes. The first thing you noticed was Arya hovering over you both, a rock held high above her head as she met the gaze of Sandor. The second thing you noticed was that his arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, wide hand pressed against the small of your back in attempt to keep you close. 

“Go on, hit me. Hit me hard.” He grumbled, fingertips now digging into your side as you shifted against him. Arya said nothing, her gaze finally dropping to meet yours before she let out a hiss and tossed the rock to the side.

The supplies were gathered in silence, it wasn’t even broke when Sandor hoisted Arya onto the warhorse and then turned to push you up after her. When you met him with a questioning gaze he simply shook his head before grabbing the reigns and leading the horse up the path. After some time of walking Sandor reached into the saddle-bag, pulling out a nut and taking a bit before reaching up to offer you the other half, you smiled in response, dipping your head to take the other hand into your mouth. 

When he did the same to Arya, however, she simply turned her face away. “Sulk all you want, truth is, you’re lucky. You don’t wanna be alone out here, girl, someone worse would find you.”

“There’s no one worse than you.” She grumbled, gaze set straight in front of her.

“Ah, you never knew my brother. He once killed a man for snoring. There’s plenty worse than me. There’s men who like to bet little girls, men who like to beat them. I saved your sisters from some of them.”

At that she slowly shifted to look at him, “you’re lying.”

“Ask her,” he snapped, head nodding in your direction. “Ask her who came back for her when the mob had her on her back and the other by the hair. They would have taken them every which way and left them there with their throats cut open.”

When Arya twisted to meet your gaze you gave a slow nod, head bowing every so slightly at the memory of that horrible day. The day that you had shoved Sansa behind you in attempt to protect her from the craven folk. The day that they slammed you down despite her sobs and grasped hungrily at you both. The day Sandor killed them all before tossing you over his shoulder and grasping Sansa tightly by the waist in order to lead you to safety. 

“Is that the Blackwater?” Arya asked suddenly, causing your brow to furrow. 

“The Blackwater?” Sandor repeated, almost in disbelief, “where do you think I’m taking you?”

“Back to King’s Landing, to Joffrey and the queen.”

“Fuck Joffrey. Fuck the queen. I’m taking you to the twins.” Sandor spat, all but rolling his eyes when she questioned him once again. “Because your mother and brother will be there and they’ll pay me for you.”

Your heart dropped at his words. You expected that he would take you back to you family and while you were excited to see them once more you were quite ready to be separated from the gruff man. 

“Those outlaws you love so much never told you? The whole countryside’s yapping about it. Your uncle’s marrying one of the Frey girls. So quit trying to bash my skull in and we might just make it there in time for the wedding.”

After almost a full days ride you had come across a man with a carriage, Arya and Sandor had a spat over killing the man, but you were much more focused on the supplies inside. It had been years since you had attended a wedding and you couldn’t help the excitement that rushed through you. As a young girl you had always looked forward to your own, having always pictured yourself being wed to a high lord or a man of noble birth, but now? You couldn’t be as sure now. The thought caused your gaze to drag over to the tall man who continued to go back and forth with you sister. You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth, mind swarming with thoughts of marriage and happiness, and when he met your gaze you didn’t look away. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, head cocking to the side as he paused mid-sentence. They then dropped down to your lips and for a brief moment he shifted on his feet as if trying to root himself into the dirt to keep from closing the distance between you. 

Then Arya spoke up, “why are you looking at each other like that?” Her voice caused you to jump, eyes falling back to the supplies as heat flushed against your cheeks. 

“Bugger off.” Sandor growled, twisting around to grasp at Strangers reigns and lead him to the front of the carriage, swapping the mule with him.

By the time the sun set and you had all gathered into the wagon you rode upon The Twins. Men were hooting and cheering, clashing their tankards together as the began to drink themselves wine sick. When the guard at the gate stopped you, demanding to know your reason for arrival you took a chance to look around for a familiar face. There was none and when he snapped for the cart to be turned around you felt your heart sink. “Arya no!” You hissed at the girl leaped from the wagon, eyes widening as you looked back to meet Sandor’s gaze.

The moment the cart was back far enough Sandor leaped from the front, grasping you. You watched with wide eyes as he unhooked his warhorse, jaw clenched tight as he turned to push you up onto the beast. “Be ready.” He growled before disappearing into the crowd. Screams began to echo around you and despite your mind screaming that something was terribly wrong you stayed put.

By the time Sandor had returned Arya was slung over his shoulder, hanging limply. He was quick to toss her over the horse before clamoring up behind you. It was heavy and the warhorse let out a displeased snort, but it would be tolerated long enough for you all to escape. You watched with hazy eyes as the men around you began to slaughter one another, the tents roaring with fire and Arya shifted to life in front of you. 

Sandor shifted to grab a Frey flag, holding it high as he rode past the crowd, all the while keeping you pressed tightly to his chest. You wished desperately that you still had your dagger; you wished you could still feel the comfort of the blade against your hip, but instead you took to grasping at the man behind you with your free hand, the other clutching your dazed sister.

Then came the chanting; King in the North.

Stranger turned just in time to place the group in your view, your eyes narrowed to make out the shape atop the horse. You let out a small cry, twisting your head back to press against Sandor’s chest as you recognized the beast. They had sewn Grey Wind’s head onto his body, onto Robb’s body. The moment a sharp whimper slid past your lips Sandor gripped the reigns tighter, rearing the horse into action and riding away from the gruesome scene. 

The sun came up not long after, but the darkness was still surrounding you all. Not a single word was spoken; deep breaths and shaking hands were the only response any of you had to what you had witnessed. Arya had grasped your wrist at one point, squeezing it tightly as you continued to rest your head against Sandor’s breastplate. 

Then came the laughter. 

It was the only humane sound you had heard since you rode away from The Twins, and it made your stomach turn. From just a few words you knew exactly what they were speaking of and you knew exactly whose men they were.

Arya was the first to react, slipping off the horse and strolling towards the men. You followed more slowly, jaw clenched as you listed to them speak. Fear, panic, resentment, sadness; all the emotions you had tried so desperately to suppress were rising up to consume you and as Arya distracted them you took it upon yourself to slowly grab one of the swords they had tossed to the side. 

With their backs to you and their attention on your sister it was easy enough to creep behind them, teeth baring with anger as you drew back the mealy weapon. Then Arya began attacking the closest man and the small sounds an anguish that slid past her lips was enough to spur you into action. The blade in your hand being shoved roughly through the mans neck, a scream sliding past his lips which was hollowed by the gurgle of blood that pooled in his mouth. 

The man next to him jumped in your direction, but a blade was quickly put through him as Sandor shoved his way between you. One by one he took out the rest of the men as you and Arya gravitated towards one another, eyes trained on the man she had stabbed. “Where did you get the knife?” He asked blankly.

“From you.” Your sister replied, eyes still trained on the dead man before her. 

With a grunt he pulled it from her grasp, shoving it back into place. “Was that the first man you’ve ever killed?” He knew the answer for you, of course, but it seemed Arya too had never experience so much blood on her hands. “Next time you’re going to do something like that, tell me first.”

It was then that he grabbed your shoulders, twisting you around to meet his gaze. Much like he had done the night prior he grasped your neck in his hands, searching for any sign of injury and just like that night there was nothing aside from the droplets of blood that had hit your face. “Come, Little Wolf, lets get you cleaned up.”


	4. The Hound's Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the horrifying events of The Red Wedding the journey continues. Sandor decides to take the reader and Arya to their Aunt in the Vale. The relationship between the Little Wolf and the Hound grows stronger; however, with many inconveniences it seems that they were doomed from the start.  
>   
>  **Chapter Inspiration: Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this part of the story we will be going through the events of season four. As usual kudos & comments are always appreciated! I truly hope you all enjoy this next chapter!

The nightmares had been haunting you since the fateful night of your mother and brothers death. All the stories and courtesies you were taught seemed to vanish at once; to kill someone at a wedding, that was a horrid, dishonorable thing. Arya seemed to be just as effect, her silence deafening between the three of you. Each time the sun set she pulled her bedroll further away, ignoring the whimpering that often woke both her and the large man from their sleep and the soft murmurs that rolled through the air as he tried to console you. 

Now you were stumbling after them both, glancing anxiously at the inn the two men had slipped back into. As Sandor rushed forward, stopping Arya in her tracks you opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the creaking of the door. You all glanced back to the man who shrank away from Sandor’s impressive height, allowing him room to walk inside.

You kept your hood up and head down as you followed, taking a seat to his right as Arya occupied the spot to his left. The whimpering of the woman across the tavern caused your jaw to clench, but you adverted your gaze, instead focusing on Sandor’s hands as he tugged away his gloves.

“I know you.” A voice rang out, drawing your attention to the man across the room; Polliver, Arya had called him. “You’re the Hound! Pour our new friend some ale.” He demanded, rising from his own table and making his way over to sit across from you.

The man, who you gathered to be the tavern keep, filled your cups with shaky hands and you looked up from under your lashes and smiled in thanks. As Polliver began chatting away you took the chance to look him over. He had barely glanced in your direction, attention fully on the man beside you. He was a weaselly man with beady eyes and a much too small mouth, but the amount he spoke seemed to make up for it. 

“-drains the fun right out of it and what’s life without a little fun?” His gaze finally shifted to you and you fought the urge to shift closer to Sandor, “but I don’t need to tell you that, eh?”

“She’s alright.” Sandor grumbled, glancing down at you for a brief moment. “I’ve had better.”

“You know what, you should come with us. His kind, they’ve always got something hidden away somewhere. Gold, silver, more daughters, always something if you know how to make them talk. There’s plenty between here and King’s Landing, you could do well for yourself. We certainly have been.”

“I’m not going to King’s Landing.”

“Well think about it, we could do whatever we’d like, wherever we go! These are the kings colors! No one’s standing in his way now, which means no one’s standing in ours.”

“Fuck the king.” Sandor snapped, leaning forward slightly. A smirk played at your lips, eyes shifting between the men as the room grew silent. The tension began to build, all focus shifting to the large man who openly disrespected the king. 

Polliver’s jaw clenched, gaze hollowed on Sandor as he spoke once more. “When I heard the Joffrey’s dog tucked tail and run from Battle of the Blackwater I didn’t believe it, but here you are.”

“Here I am. Bring me one of those chickens.” 

“You got money to pay for it?” 

“You paid for it?” Sandor countered, tone never shifting.

The man let out a bitter laugh, “no, but we’re the kings men. So, you got money?”

“Not a penny. I’ll still take that chicken.”

You could feel the room shift at his words, the fight that was destined to break out causing your limbs to tense in anticipation. “Tell you what, we’ll trade you. One of our little chickens for one of yours.” His gaze shifted between you and Arya, “give us a go at one of your friends. Lowell there likes them a bit broken in.”

“You’re a talker. Listening to talkers makes me thirsty.” You watched as he reached forward, grasping the other mans tankard and lifting it to his own lips, downing the contents quickly. “And hungry. Think I’ll take two chickens.”

“You don’t seem to understand the situation.”

“I understand that if anymore words come pouring out of your cunt mouth I’m gonna have to eat every chicken in this room.”

The words seemed to effect the man, causing him to pause briefly before replying. “You lived your life for the king, you gonna die for some chickens?”

“Someone is.”

The moment the man moved for his sword Sandor darted to action, shoving the table over onto him as both you and Arya jumped to the side. You shuffled over to her as the fighting began, watching with wide eyes as your companion faced off against them all. 

You had never enjoyed the stories of women who stood to the side as their knights defended them, crying out helplessly as they witness them getting attacked, but in the moment that Sandor was kicked to the ground you understood it. You looked desperately for a way to help, but it seemed as quick as you found a solution a new problem arose. It wasn’t until he was pushed to the ground one more, knife to his neck, that you sprang to action. A heavy tankard now in hand as you rushed forward and hit the man over the head as hard as you could. Sandor took this opportunity to shift the blade, repeatedly jerking the mans face down onto it. 

He was on his feet once more, sulking towards the final man and roughly shove his great sword into his torso. Once the man fell to the floor you rushed forward, hands instantly grasping as his arms in order to turn him in your direction, which never would have been possible had he not allowed it. You grasped for his face, a scoff slipping past his lips as he batted your hand away, though he bent at the waist in order for you to get a better look. “’m fine.” He grumbled before shifting back to his full height and turning towards your sister, who slowly removed her blade from Polliver’s neck. 

With a name crossed off her list and a horse of her own you were gifted with a smile from Arya, the first you had seen in days. Sandor was perched behind you, arms caging you as he held the reigns of Stranger. When Arya had questioned as to why you couldn’t have a horse as well he had grumbled about it being another thing to look after and how it would be more difficult to protect you, but you couldn’t help but smile at his underlining words. He didn’t want you that far away from him.

The kind man who had offered you his barn and a place at his table warmed your heart, the thought of there still be good people after all you had seen bringing you comfort. You had scolded Sandor at the table, smacking his thigh out of view before drinking heavily from your bowl. 

After such an eventful day Arya had collapsed into the hay, falling asleep so fast you hadn’t even gotten the chance to wish her a good rest. Your gaze shifted to Sandor, who was sat on the opposite end of the ban, eyes screwed shut as he seemed to lose himself in thought. 

It was a strange thing to see such a vicious and barbaric man in a vaguely relaxed state. You felt yourself gravitate towards him, small strides closing the space between you both as you lowered yourself to your knees before him. He didn’t shifted at your presence, but you knew well enough that he felt you there. 

You stared at him for a long moment, eyes trailing over his features before settling on the burns. Back in Winterfell you would have flinched seeing them so close, however now you found yourself admiring them. They didn’t necessarily take away from his handsome face, instead it reminded you of the the hardships he had faced, of the cruelty the was forced upon him, and it urged you to comfort him. Without thought you lifted your hand, slowly reaching to drag your fingertips over the marred skin, only to flinch when he suddenly moved, grasping your wrist tightly in his hand.

His face contorted into anger, scars twisted viciously as his brow furrowed. Your mouth bobbed in search for words, however instead of speaking you simply pushed forward, hand brushed against his ruined skin with a ghostly touch. His hand tightened around your own, face flinching as you continued to run your fingers over his face. “I don’t mind it, not anymore.” You whispered, shifting closer so your chest was almost pressed against his breastplate. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing, girl.” He growled, eyes boring into yours with such heat that you weren’t sure how long you could meet it. 

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, head shaking as you leaned closer to him, noses brushing as you spoke. “I do, I’m not a girl anymore.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, air slipping past your lips in shaky breaths as you waited for something- anything. When he still kept his distance you let out a soft sound of annoyance, “please.”

The whine seemed to spur him into action, his hand tugging roughly at your wrist, pulling you forward to meet his lips. Despite the harsh rub of his beard and the chapped lips, you melted against him, heat flowing through you as you moved your mouth against his. 

You had kissed before, though they had been nothing more than simple pecks from your suitors. It was nothing like this. His hand released you, only to slide down the side of your dress and pull your closer, grunting softly as you pressed fully against him. His kiss was ravenous, as if he hadn’t felt a woman in years and you couldn’t stop your hands from reaching behind his neck to grasp onto him. 

It wasn’t until his tongue forcefully ran along the seam of your lips that your breathing hitched, brow furrowing as you tentatively opened your mouth to grant him access. It was intoxicating; the way he tongue move against yours, exploring the cavern of your mouth as he pawed at you desperately. When his fingertips dug roughly into your skin you let out a small moan, but rather than the sound encouraging his movements he forcefully removed himself from you.

“That’s enough.” He snapped, his voice had tremendously lower than the last time he spoke. 

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his darkening gaze, cheeks hot with embarrassment. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Seven hells don’t you know who I am?” His tone was demanding, but as your expression shifted to hurt he let out a heavy sigh. “It’s time to sleep.”

You didn’t question this. The mention of rest instantly reminded you of the exhaustion that had crept up after such a long days ride. You gave a low nod, cheeks still warm and you crawled forward to lay next to him. He wordlessly allowed this, arm draping across your middle as you faced away from him. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep to his deep breathing. 

A scream tore you from you peaceful slumber. You sat up instantly, blinking at your surrounding before leaping up to follow Arya out of the barn. The first thing you noticed was Sandor’s massive form walking the path away from the house, then you caught sight of the man and his daughter on the ground. 

Your sister was the first to speak, screaming at your protector as she marched after him. He barely glanced back in her direction as he continued back towards the horses. When he rounded on her you paused, desperate for him to meet your gaze, however he ignored it completely and began countering each insult the smaller girl threw at him before twisting back around.

Don’t you know who I am? He had demanded the previous night and it seemed he was set on reminding you.

He kept his distance from you the following nights. The only contact you had was when he would hoist you onto Stranger, though now you were sat behind him. Even at night he kept his distance, never laying down until both you and Arya had fallen asleep and when you woke he was never by your side. 

You didn’t wish to regret the kiss. It had meant more to you than any intimate contact you had ever possessed and the thought that he wished you hadn’t initiated it caused you great embarrassment. Arya seemed to notice the strange behavior between you both, though the deep frown on your lips kept her from mentioning it.

You watched with great sadness as he knelt before the dying man, brow pulled tightly as he spoke. You desperately wished you could help, that there was some way you could pull him to his feet and allow him to walk away, but it simply wasn’t possible. When Sandor slid the dagger into his chest, informing you both where the heart was located, you marked it deep within your memory.

And then he was attacked. 

His hands instantly went to his neck, holding it tightly as he twisted around to see the mans companion. His large frame taking the few steps to stand before you as he demanded to know what he was doing. 

“There’s a price on your head.”

“Guess that’s what the king does when you tell him to fuck off.” His hands were still holding his injury as he spoke, only pulling back to examine the blood.

“The king’s dead, he drank poison wine at his own wedding. The bounty on you is for killing Lannister soldiers. A hundred silver stakes.” 

You had closed them out then, thoughts swarming with the news of Joffrey’s death, however there was one that stood out greatly among the others. Where was Sansa? You beautiful, soft-hearted sister who you had grievously left behind in King’s Landing. The sister who haunted your thoughts almost as much as the image of your brother head being replaced with his direwolf’s. 

Arya was a quick learner, needle stabbing directly into the spot Sandor had previously pointed out to you both. You turned back to Sandor, stepping forward to check his injuries, only for him to shake his head and turn his back to you. 

You had stayed quiet once you reached the mountaintop, fiddling with one of the saddle-bags as Arya tried to help the man with his wound. The shouting between them was something you had grown used to, however, the solemn tone the slid into Sandor’s voice as he spoke of his brother was not. 

You wanted desperately to go to him. To comfort him and apologize for all that he had endured, but you knew it would only be shoved aside. Instead you waited until nightfall, when Arya had curled up beside the fire and he sat far off to the side. You debated on ignoring him the way he had done you, on curling up alongside your sister and keeping quiet, but you couldn’t handle the rift any longer.

The space between you was closed in a few short strides, hands wringing in front of you as you tried to push away you anxiousness. “I apologize if my advances the other night were improper. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just- I’m sorry.” Your voice was strained as you looked at him, doing your best not to flinch under his gaze.

His face contorted harshly, eyes narrowing as he raked them across your frame. When he made no move to respond you twisted on your heels, only to be stopped by his voice. “Once I get your to your aunt you won’t think twice about an old dog like me.”

“Don’t say that!” You snapped, turning back to face him. Your feet were moving on their own, pulling you towards him as your fists clenched at your sides. “It’s not true! After all you’ve done for me, I could never forget you.”

“So what, Little Wolf, you want to thank me? Wanna give me your favor?” It was then that he rose to his full height, now towering over you. “You’ll be married to some buggering fool who will give you lots of little lords and ladies, some cunt who will give you the life you were born to have.”

“I don’t want that!” You all but screamed, hands lifting to roughly shove him, though he barely shifted from the force. After all you had seen, all you had endured you couldn’t bring yourself to think of living the life you once fantasized about. “I want you!”

He scoffed in response, eyes rolling before meeting your gaze once more. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! I do know what I’m saying and I’m sorry if it’s not what you want to hear, but I won’t lie to you!” 

There was a moment of silence between you both, his attention fully on you as your chest heaved violently. “That’s what you want then? Some old fucker like me with nothing to offer? I’ve no lands, no coin, no home. I have nothing for you.”

“I don’t care.” Your voice had dropped to a whisper, the space between you both dwindling as you reached for him. Without the bulk of his armor you were able to feel his solid form, hands grasping tightly at his tunic as you craned your neck to look up at him. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I-I don’t want to. When we get to my Aunt Lisa I don’t want you to leave.”

His mouth was shut tight, stormy orbs searching you face for doubt and when he saw his hands lifted to grasp your neck. “Alright, Little Wolf.” He replied in the softest voice he could muster finally dropping his mouth of cover yours. You responded immediately, lips pressing against his as your hands continued to fist at the material that covered his torso. 

It was nothing like the previous night, that kiss was full of hunger and desperation, whereas this held a tone of simplicity and determination. His hands gripped your neck firmly, angling you back to deepen the kiss. Unlike the night in the barn when a groan was muffled between you both it encouraged him, hands dropping to grip your waist and hoist you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his middle. His hands pressed against your back, holding you to him as he turned away from the fire. 

With slow movements he bent at the knee, lowering you onto the bedroll all without parting his lips from yours. His large form settled between your legs, shifting to cup your face with one hand before pulling back. “I’ll go where you want me, but it won’t be how you want.”

“Just don’t leave me.” You whispered, lips brushing against his with each word. His gave a slow nod before dropping to lay next to you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame as he released a long breath. 

You had been closer to the Eyrie than you originally thought and Sandor had decided that you would leave the horses at the mouth of the Bloody Gate. He was marching ahead of both you and your sister, hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he kept his gaze forward.

“I saw you last night.” Arya said suddenly, causing your gaze to snap down to her. “Don’t look at me like that. You were the one shouting. I don’t understand it and I don’t like it, but.. if that’s really what you want I’ll leave it.”

With that she sped up her pace in order to walk directly behind the gruff man. A smile played at your lips as you skipped forward, only stopping once you were walking next to him as well. He glanced down briefly, brow furrowing at your grin before giving a shake of his head and focusing back on the road before him. 

Once the main guard shouted down from his position before the Bloody Gate, demanding to know who you were, your limbs tensed. “The bloody Hound, Sandor Clegane, and his travelling companions Y/N and Arya Stark. Nieces of your Lady Lysa Arryn.”

“Then I offer my condolences. Lady Arryn died three days ago.”

The silence was deafening, however when it was broken by the giggles of disbelief from your sister you couldn’t help the small smile that broke out across your features. It seemed that the gods had it out for not only the Stark's, but those related to them as well. They were cruel, but in some strange way you hadn’t expected any different.

Sandor had not been happy, that much was clear as he aggressively lead you both away from the mouth of the Eyrie. He had decided to settle for the night within the rock formations of the mountain and you were quick to begin setting up camp. Arya had slipped away, not completely out of view, but enough to give the two of you privacy as he curse over his luck. 

“Where will we go now?” You asked after pulling out the bedrolls, dusting your hands against your dress as you turned to face him. When he didn’t respond you let out a soft sigh, closing the distance between you both and reaching up to cup his face with your hand. “Sandor, it’ll be okay.”

A scoff was his first response, reaching up to fondly press your hand closer to his face. Despite the initial bewilderment of you willingly touching the marred skin he had began to enjoy the small affections. “Aye, Little Wolf it will, but this doesn’t help us.”

You rocked onto your toes, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, only to pull away when Arya hissed at you both. “You can do that shit later there’s people coming.”

At that Sandor pulled away, adjusting himself with a slight growl. “It’d better be the fucking queen herself.” His words only caused a giggle to slip past your lips as you turned to continue setting up the bedrolls. It wasn’t until you had finished that you stepped out to see what was taking them so long. 

The massive woman before you was the first to catch your eye, dropping her head in greeting as you slipped closer to Sandor. It wasn’t until a low mumble came from her young squire that you recognized him from King’s Landing. “It’s Sandor Clegane, The Hound, and...” He trailed off, gaze shifting to you. 

You stepped closer to the aforementioned male, hand reaching out to grasp his arm as the tall woman glanced from you to your sister. “You’re Y/N and Arya Stark.”

“I asked if you wanted something.” Sandor montoned, hand moving to grip the hilt of his sword as he stared down the woman. You could feel the tension winding in your gut as you slowly stepped to the side, hand dragging along his forearm before dropping back down to your side. 

“I swore to your mother I would bring you home to her.” The woman said, eyes never shifting from your face. 

“Our mother’s dead.” You countered, head tilting slightly as you met her gaze.

“I know,” she replied, taking a slow step in your direction. “I wish I could have been there to protect her.”

“You’re not a Northerner.”

“No, but I swore a sacred vow to protect her.”

It was then that Arya spoke up, “why didn’t you?”

A solemn look crossed the woman's features, “she commanded me to bring Jamie Lannister back to King’s Landing.”

“You’re paid by the Lannisters,” Sandor spat. “You’re here for the bounty on me.”

It was then that she finally turned back to the man, lip curling as she addressed him. “I’m not paid by the Lannisters.”

“No?” He countered, moving to close the space between them with squared shoulders. “Fancy sword you got there, where’d you get it? I’ve been looking at Lannister gold all my life. Go on Brienne of fucking Tarth, tell me that’s not Lannister gold.”

Her grip tightened on the weapon, causing your heart to skip as you glanced over at your sister. “Jamie Lannister gave me this sword. I swore to your mother by the Old Gods and the New-”

“We don’t care what you swore!” You hissed, taking a step away from the group. 

“Y/N!” She growled, only to be cut of by the man before her.

“You heard the girl! They’re not coming with you.”

“They are.” At that Sandor drew his blade slightly, which the woman mimicked. “Come with me girls, I’ll bring you to safety.”

“Safety! Where the fuck’s that? Their aunt in the Eyrie's dead! Their mother’s dead! Their father’s dead! Their brother’s dead! Winterfell is a pile of rubble. There’s no safety you dumb bitch. If you don’t know that by now you’re the wrong one to watch over them.”

“And that’s what you’re doing? Watching over them.”

“Aye, that’s what I’m doing.”

Then their swords were drawn, clashing against one another with an echoing ring. You shifted as the fight began, eyes dragging over each member as they began to tumble alongside the cliffs. “Arya, run!” You snapped, urging both her and the squire into action as you took off together. The fallen rock bit at your ankles with each step, but you followed her closely as you both avoided the young man. 

It wasn’t until an unusually sharp turn that you fumbled, Arya paused, turning back to assist you only for you to shout. “Keep going! I’ll lead him away.” She looked like she wanted to object, but when the man came into view once more she scurried away. 

You jumped to your feet again, dodging jagged rocks as you did your best to lead him away from your sister. However, it wasn’t until you found yourself at a cliff that you came to a halt. The man grasped you quickly, wrestling against you which lead to a loss of footing. As the two of you fell to the ground you looked around desperately for a means to escape. 

Then your eyes landed on Sandor, craning back towards the cliff adjacent to yours, and then he was falling. Your movements stopped completely, ears ringing as he rolled out of sight. “No,” you whispered breathily, eyes watering as you shook your head. “Get off- get off me!” You screamed at the man, who fumbled off of you instantly. You were on you feet then, scrambling forward to where Brienne of Tarth lay panting. You stared over the cliff, eyes frantically searching for the man, heart dropping as they landed on his crumbled form. 

“Pod,” the woman grunted out, and when you shifted to run towards a gentler cliff-side an arm was tossed around your waist. You fought desperately, screaming out Sandor’s name as you were tugged away from the drop, tears now streaming freely down your face. 

When you were turned to face the woman she had rose to her feet, her gaze twisting with confusion and you fell limp against the man. She then twisted to look along the mountain, “Arya!”

But it was much too late. You had lost them both.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters I write about nor do I own the gif(s) below. If you would like it removed or given credit please message me & I will do just that!


	5. The Hound's Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lonely winter has turned the reader cold and despite multiple reunions she hasn’t been able to pull herself from the past. After accompanying Jon to see the Dragon Queen and then returning to The Wall in order to gather prove for the woman she is given the one thing she had begged of the Gods for many moons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final filler chapter for this story. It goes through the events between 5 and 6 rather quickly because I honestly couldn’t write this without having some type of interaction with the reader and Sandor! As usual kudos, comments, & bookmarks are much appreciated!  
>   
>  **Chapter Inspiration: Silhouette by Aquilo**

You couldn’t bring yourself to forgive Brienne of Tarth for what she had stolen from you. Each moment you were faced with her you could only see the pain she had caused and it lead you to resent her. When she had swore an oath to you, swearing to protect you, you denied her. You killed the only person who could protect me. you had countered. The day she and Podrick had stumbled upon your sister, Sansa, you were upstairs in your rented room. It was only then that you decided separating yourself from them would benefit no one. 

Time had blurred into endless nights after the death of Sandor Clegane and the disappearance of Arya Stark. You had distracted yourself with the effort of helping them try to lure Sansa away from the Bolton’s, away from Winterfell. When you had stumbled upon her by chance, in the woods surrounded by men and hounds, you felt a flush of hope. She clung to you desperately in the moment and you turned to the lady warrior urging her to swear an oath to your sister. I can never accept it, but she can.

When you had arrived at Castle Black you were battered and broken, but another piece of yourself had been restored when the arms of both your half-brother and sister were wrapped firmly around you.

You had kept from mentioning your time with the Hound, giving as little detail as possible whenever you were asked. Despite being morbidly curious, both Jon and Sansa could see the hurt in your eyes and never pushed further than necessary. 

After the Battle of the Bastards you renounced your duty as the eldest Stark, reducing the task to Sansa who had questioned you intently. After nearly two years of travel you couldn’t bring yourself to stay in one place and while your childhood home brought you great comfort you had grown exceedingly restless within it’s heated halls. 

Jon had fought like mad to keep you in Winterfell, desperation clear in his tone as he begged you to stay with your younger sister, but you refused. A Stark would remain in Winterfell and a Stark would face the Dragon Queen. 

Daenerys Targaryen was every bit of the ruler she was rumored to be. She was as beautiful as she was ruthless and you came to admire her greatly. Despite you name as a Stark she treated you well and with great respect. When you spoke alongside Jon about what resided deeper in the North she had listened and contemplated your every word. 

The time travelling the north had turned your cold and calculating; you could not trust anyone and that shattered the rose tinted windows that had always polluted your judgement. You weren’t skilled in battle nor were you in politics or people, but you had grown accustom to both and they were a deadly combination. 

Then you found yourself travelling back to The Wall, much to Jon’s dismay who had practically begged you to allow one of his men to return you to Winterfell. You hadn’t paid much mind to the conversation at the table, instead you sat by the hearth, wringing your hands together in attempt to cure the numbness. 

“It’s it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?” Tormund’s voice rang out, pulling your attention back to the group of me. Davos replied lowly, only to be ignored by the wildling man. “How many queens are there?”

“Two.” Jon piped up.

“And you need to convince the one with dragons or the one who fucks her brother?” A bitter laugh slid past your lips at that. Despite your reluctance to put your trust into anyone, you had grown fond of the fiery male during your time with Jon. He was not hesitant or mindful of his words and you respected that. 

“Both,” Jon replied, though the lighthearted banter faltered when he was asked of his men count. “Not enough.”

“The big woman?” Tormund then asked, causing another soft laugh to flow through the group.

Jorah, an ever silent man, then spoke. “We were hoping some of your men would help.” 

“I’ll be staying behind with Lady Y/N. I’m a liability out there as you well know.” Davos grumbled under his breath.

“You are. She’d be more useful than you, all spirit and vengeful.” Tormund replied, tilting his head in your direction. You rolled your eyes in response, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You really want to go out there again?” When Jon simply nodded in response he leaned back, “you’re not the only ones.”

You perked at that, brow furrowing as he began explaining how they had a group of men locked below. It didn’t surprise you, not with the amount of confused and broken people you had come across. When he began to lead the group towards the cells you debated on whether you wished to follow along and after moments passed with no sound from any of them you rose from your seat and made your way below. 

“For fucks sake will you shut your hole. Are we coming with you or not?” The voice twisted within your chest, familiarity striking you to the core as you paused on the steps. A shuddering breath to remind yourself that he was dead was enough to spur your movements once more. Your heels hit the hard flooring, echoing throughout the hollow room as you made your way toward the men. The parted instantly, giving room for you to glance at the strangers.

Then your ears were ringing, eyes widening a fraction as you looked past the familiar man in order to meet his gaze. It seemed he found himself in the same state as you, a heavy breath catching in his throat as he slowly rose to his full height. “Open it.” You demanded in a low whisper.

“I don’t-” Tormund began, though the snap of your head in his direction was enough to cut him off. Not once had that gaze been directed at him and in the many times he had teased others for bowing down to you then made sense.

You tone was now much stronger, eyes glaring daggers as you spoke once more. “Now.”

His brow raised dramatically, hands reaching down to grasp the key that was hooked on his leather belt before he stepped forward to unlock the cell. You pushed past both him and Beric, only stopping when you had to crane your neck back to look up at the scarred man. 

Had this been in the past you would have shied away from him, nervous with the eyes of all the others one you, but that wasn’t the case. You desperately wanted to meet his gaze with a strong one, but as you took in his features, as you felt his warm breath his your face, it turned watery. 

“Little Wolf.” He grumbled softly and that was all it took for you to sling yourself forward, arms winding tightly around his neck. His response was immediate, his own strong arms wrapping around your middle as he lifted you off your feet and into the embrace. The force from the impact was enough to push him back a step, knees now pressing against the bench he had been perched on just moments before.

The room seemed to shift, confusion fill the spaces between you all as a sob broke past your lips. Not once during your time with the men had you allowed yourself to be weak, not even when your were alone with Jon, but the tight grip around you was enough to crack the stone. 

It was Jon he reacted first, eyes dropping away from the private moment as he began to usher the other men out of the room. Despite his skepticism towards the man who had once been loyal to the Lannisters he couldn’t bring himself to come between The Hound and his sister. 

Once the door slammed shut behind them you pulled back, eyes dragging over his features once before you dropped down to push your lips against his. His grunted against your lips, returning the kiss with just as much desperation. Then he was walking and even through your heavy cloak the bite of the cold wall being pressed against your back was enough to halt your breath. There was a fury of desperate hands and sharp gasps as you pushed against one another. Your noses and teeth knocking together as you tried to deepen the kiss.

“Sandor,” you spoke between a hollow gasp, eyes squeeze shut as you pulled back to rest your forehead against his. “I thought you were dead.”

“I was for a time.” He mumbled in response, head rocking against you as he spoke. “I was ready to let go, even tried to get the buggering she-wolf to do it, but she left me to rot.”

At the mention of Arya your heart leaped, hands grasping at nape of his neck as you pressed forward for another kiss. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to tell you,” you began breathlessly, voice cracking softly with the effort, “I didn’t think I’d ever get to tell you that I love you.”

You words caused him to jerk, brow furrowed as his eyes searched your face for any sign of insincerity, and when he found none his head bowed. “Aye, I love you, Little Wolf.”

Any response you may have had was cut away by a new voice echoing from the top of the stairs. “Y/N?” Jon had given you a chance to speak with Sandor, but he didn’t trust the man and he had already left you alone with him for long enough.

“I’m fine, Jon.” You responded breathlessly and the man slowly lowered you back to the ground. “We’ll be up in a moment.”

When the door shut once more you rocked forward to place another tender kiss to his lips before grasping his hand and leading him out of the cell. Once you had slipped out of the door you were faced with the other men. You became vastly aware of your rumbled state. Your dress had been twisted slightly, lips swollen from the intimate moment you had been caught up in just moments ago. 

You released your hold from the large man, meeting each of their gazes without fault, before turning to Jon. “I’ll be in the solar.” Your head was held high as you marched back towards the warm room. However, before you had moved out of earshot you caught Tormund’s voice, “you’re a lucky man.”

It wasn’t until they were fully prepared that you left the solar, watching from the side as they spoke briefly of the plan. Despite the strong voice of Jon your gaze was trained directly on Sandor, who stubbornly looked between your brother and yourself. His large hands curled into fists to keep from reaching out for you. 

Then the wall began to split in order to allow them an exit and he broke away, marching directly to you and pausing less than a foot away. “Please come back.” You begged softly, tears threatening to spill once more as you stared up at him.

“I’m not staying gone that long again.” Was his only response as he dropped his head, pressing his forehead firmly against yours for just a moment before turning to follow the group out in the open north.


	6. The Hound's Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiousness had overcome the her the moment the group had left, but she had done her best to occupy her time with Ser Davos. After what seemed like an eternity the men had returned with horrible news, but it seems there may still be a few cherishable moments in store for some of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is pure smut and angst so I hope you all enjoy it! As usual kudos, comments, & bookmarks are much appreciated. XXX  
>  **Chapter Inspiration: Not Afraid Anymore by Halsey**

_The cool breeze bit at your exposed skin, causing pricks to shoot up your spine, breaths coming in with a heaving chest as your eyes darted around your surroundings. Despite the vast emptiness you felt a strange sense of comfort, longing to drift deeper into the darkness. A huff of warm air hit your neck, whispers swirling around your mind as you pushed forward. A flickering shadow pulled your attention to the side, feet moving on their own accord as you followed the darkened figure. The mouth of the stone opened wide before you and the blurred light lead you deeper inside._

_A strange comfort was brought forth by the flickering flames, wide eyes dragging along the cavern, desperate from something to obliterate the confusion. Then there was a warm pressure against your back, chills erupted across your skin as a hot breath rolled over the exposed flesh of your neck. A firm hand lifted to press against your hip, pulling your figure back to be enveloped with warmth._

_There was a whisper of a touch, blurred fingers rolling across your face before hooking your hair and pulling it back to reveal the nape of your neck. Another push of air caused your head to tilt, allowing more access to the skin, and a firm mouth brushed against your ear as the familiar voice rolled out. “Hush, Little Wolf, it’s alright.”_

You jerked awake, hand pressing firmly against your chest as you fought to catch your breath. It had been three cycles of the sun since you had last seen Sandor and while you had many dreams about him they had never been quite so intimate. With a groan you pushed the furs from your body, standing from the feather bed and stretching out your limbs. 

The majority of your time had been spent with Ser Davos, reading and discussing their past. While he didn’t outright ask about her relationship with the brooding man, the slight comments he made proved that he had caught on. You did your best to keep a level head, focused solely on the fact that he was alive rather than if he would return once more. 

After dressing in your newest gown, one that Sansa had made for you, you slipped out into the cold air and made your way towards the dining area. Davos was already enjoying his meal, though when he caught sight of you he rose in greeting. You quickly waved his off, smiling as you dropped down to sit across from him. 

“Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but you seem more worried than usual.” He said after a short period of silence. 

You dropped your spoon into the bowl, letting out a sigh as you lifted your gaze to meet his. “It’s nothing, ser Davos, just a strange dream and concern for the men.” 

“Concern for a man.” He countered softly and despite your effort to meet his gaze with a frown you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

However, before you got the chance to respond a bloodcurdling roar shook the castle walls. You shared a glance with the man before pushing from the bench, hands grasping the sides of your dress as you rushed out the door.

The Dragon Queen’s largest dragon flew overhead, landing on the opposite side of the wall. You hurried towards the gate, demanding the men to open it as you waited within the tunnel. The moment the mouth parted enough for you to pass you darted forward. Drogon was crouched on the ground, head turned away as he allowed the group to dismount him. Your eyes pulled over the group desperately, and the moment they landed on the largest of them your heart swelled with hope.

In that moment you noticed the lack of your brother. Your brow furrowed as you stepped forward, a questioning gaze shifting to meet Daenerys’ who simply shook her head, a sorrowful expression the only answer you received.

Then there was a heavy set of footfall, forcing your eyes back towards the colossal man who was stomping in your direction. Within moments his arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close as you clung to him. A broken sob echoed around you, eyes squeezing shut and you could vaguely make out Ser Davos’ soft command to bring you inside. 

Sandor dropped his arm to grasp the bend of your knee and lift you from the ground. Your arms wound around his neck as he pushed forward, mumbling a quick fuck off to one of the others and heading back within the comforts of the wall. You were adjusted in his arms as he made his way up the stairs, shifting slightly before a burst of warmth surrounded you. 

The hearth was still burning strongly and you registered it through a blurry gaze before you were tucked into your feather-bed. A soft whine slid past your lips as Sandor pulled the blankets over your form, but when he turned away you quickly reached out to grasp his hand. “Stay, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Little Wolf.” He grumbled. He pulled the cloak from his body, dropping to carelessly to the ground before sliding under the furs and wrapping his arms around your frame. You curled up against him, inhaling deeply as you clung to his tunic. 

You couldn’t be sure how long you laid together, drifting in and out of sleep. When you fully opened your eyes you noted how the sun had begun to set, eyes fluttering as they adjusted to the dim light coming from the fire. You turned your gaze up, smiling softly as you looked at the man. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly ajar and you couldn’t help but admire the peaceful expression on his face.

Over the years you had grown used to the harsh way his face contorted. The venomous words and gruff demeanor that had once been so off putting. You stretched up to press a firm kiss to his jaw, fingers lifting to tangle in his hair as you nuzzled against his neck. A low grunt slid past his lips, hand lifting to press against the small of your back and hold you closer to his. You glanced up to meet his now open eyes. You kept his gaze as your fingers trailed up to graze across his twisted flesh and when he adverted his eyes you pressed your palm against his face. 

“Don’t do that.” You whispered, “I love you for you. This is apart of you and I love it just as much.”

Rather than respond he lifted his other arm to drape across your middle, giving you the opportunity to pull away before dropping to press his forehead against yours. You lifted your chin, lips brushing softly against his and when he responded almost eagerly, hands grasping at your dress as his mouth parted against yours. You clumsily moved your lips against his, tongue slipping past to test the waters. 

A grunt was muffled against your lips as he shoved his tongue into your mouth, exploring the cavern with an overwhelming hunger. You rolled onto your back, pulling him over you without breaking the kiss. In that moment your dream came to mind, the enticing touches and soft whispers clouding your mind as you parted from him. “Sandor I-I need,” your words broke off as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the corned of your mouth. 

“Hush, Little Wolf, I know.” The gruffness in his voice caused you to arch against him and his mouth began to trail down to your neck. A soft moan slid past your lips as he ran his tongue along your jugular, hands dropping to grasp your hips and keep them from lifting. 

Then you were being lifted from the bed, pulling into a sitting position as reached back to begin fiddling with the ties of your dress. Your face flushed as you leaned towards him, repeating the action he had preformed and pressing a kiss to his collarbone. 

He jerked back to meet your eyes, brow furrowed as he searched your face. Whatever he saw there encouraged him, hands trailing to your shoulders to slowly push the now loose fabric from down your frame. In your rush to get dressed that morning you had decided against your small-clothes, and when the top of the dress was tugged from your chest your breast perked at the cool air. 

It was then that his gaze dropped to your chest, tongue sliding past his lips to wet them before he lowered you back onto the bed. With unusually soft movements he dropped his head to the valley between your breast, placing hot opened mouth kisses along your skin before placing it over your nipple. His tongue rolled across the bulb, a moan tearing from your throat as you arched against him. His free hand lifted to toy with your other breast, sparks shooting along your spine as he continued his movements. 

Then he began moving lower, mouth grazing your skin as he pulled your dress lower. In a swift movement he leaned back, dragging the fabric off from you completely and you faltered beneath his gaze. Heat flushed throughout your entire body as your watched his eyes drag along your figure. 

“Look at this, you’re perfect, Y/N.” His gaze burned with admiration and when your name slid past his lips you reached for him. He allowed you to grasp his neck and pull him in for a sloppy kiss, though he broke it quickly, trailing kissed down your sternum and only stopping when he was hovering between your legs. 

He nipped lightly at your inner thigh, large hands rolling over your skin as he lowered his mouth to your core. Hot embarrassment flushed throughout you, but when his lips pressed firmly over your heat it vanished. His tongue slid along your folds, spreading your wetness as you probed lightly at your entrance. 

Your breath caught in your throat, hips bucking without consent. His hands pressed firmly against your hips and when you settled back into the furs he trailed a hand up to grasp at one of your breasts. His tongue then swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves, hands reaching up to grab his forearm as a whimper slid past your lips.

He took you into his mouth desperately, fingertips digging into your skin as he continued to lick and suck at your heat. You felt him push forcefully against the bed, rocking slightly as he let out a low growl. The vibration against your skin caused your eyes to screw shut, legs tightening around his head as you pressed closer to him. 

There was an eruption of pleasure through your body, breath coming with great difficulty as a moan echoed within the room. He worked you through the pleasure, movements slowing along with your heaving chest as you relaxed against the bed once more. 

After a moment he shifted over you again, face now hovering above yours and he placed a lazy kiss to your lips. A hard pressure pushed against your leg and you pulled back to look at him. You were vaguely aware of what occurred in the marriage bed, your mother having explained if before you were sent to King’s Landing, and you were aware of the male appendage that was pressed firmly against you.

“Sandor I want you.” You grumbled, lifting your leg to press against his length. 

A groan caught in his throat, hands slamming your body back into place as he shook his head. “You’re maidenhead, I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I promise.” You lifted your head to press a kiss to his lips. “It’s yours to take.”

He let out a heavy breath, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he leaned back to tug at the bottom of his tunic. With a swift movement he tossed it to the side carelessly, dropping his hands to work at the ties of his trousers and shoving them away with just as much force.

When his length slapped against his stomach your cheeks heated, gaze adverting from his member to meet his gaze. Within moments he was pressed against you again, however, this time his hand dropped to line himself up with your center. He shifted against your wetness, a throaty moan pushing past his lips as he slowly pushed in.

There was an uncomfortable pressure, brow furrowed as he slowly sheathed himself inside of you. He pushed himself up on his forearms, head dropped to kiss your lips as he began rocking against you. The pressure began to shift to pleasure, a gasp sliding past your lips as he hint the point within you that caused you to arch against him. 

At your movement he dropped a hand to wrap around your waist, holding you to him as he began to speed up. His face was contorted with the effort, hand grasping at your skin as he slid a hand between you to play with the bundle of nerves that had sent you over the edge just moments ago. 

“Sandor!” You called out, nails biting into his back as you lost yourself in the pleasure. You couldn’t have been sure how long you were there, moving desperately against one another as you chased your climax. A jerk of his finger against you pushed you into that beautiful place of completion, your heat squeezing him as he gave an harsh thrust and with a growl of your name his movements began to slow. 

You were both panting intensely, heads rubbing together as he dropped his weight against you. “I love you.” He growled, the words causing your heart to swell as you tilted your head to kiss him once more. 

“I love you, Sandor Clegane.”


End file.
